


The Weight of the World

by WonderAvian



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23001151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/WonderAvian
Summary: They had done it. They had saved the world yet again. They could finally relax, until the next situation that found them miles away from home.All things may be said and done, but the impact had left its mark.Originally posted on tumblr December 12th 2016.
Kudos: 16





	The Weight of the World

Virgil is playing the piano. The notes are drifting throughout the villa like a summer breeze. A low note here, a high note there, an arpeggio or two to keep things interesting. A slide lulls the listener into sluggish haze, but then the sudden jolts of multiple high staccato wakes them right back up.

The music is all around. It fills the enclosed space of the villa, creating a sense of wonderment. The lilting notes are seemingly constant. They are everywhere.

This is how Virgil relaxes. This is how Virgil truly gets in the zone. This is how, after all those tough rescues out in the field and after all the arguments with his brothers, he can finally unwind and just be himself.

There is so much music in the world that needs to be played. There are so many burdens that need to be lifted.

And yet, Virgil had felt good today. He had felt they had really accomplished something. He and his brothers and sister and friends had achieved something amazing. Now, he just needs to relax.

So, Virgil plays on.

* * *

Alan is standing by the edge of the villa, staring out at the ocean. He holds an empty glass in his right hand, and his wrists seem thinner than before. His eyes are unseeing, for they do not take in anything from the outside. He doesn’t hear anything. No sound penetrates his senses. It is only inside his head where the voices rage.

Voices of doubt. Voices of anger. Voices that scream inside his head, voicing worries and concerns in the way only the mind can.

Alan stares, unblinkingly into the ocean. The body of water is seemingly never-ending, and the night is dark, the sky clouded.

Scott had been angry with him. God, Scott had been angry with him, and he hadn’t done anything to apologize. And, and then, when he and Virgil were up in space, he had messed up. He’d messed up badly.

Three had been damaged, and he and Virgil had almost died. John and O’Bannon had almost died.

God, the whole _world…_

Sure he had saved them, had done it in the end, but what if he hadn’t? What if he had _failed…?_

_The expectations are too much._

_Sometimes he just wasn’t sure what to think…_

Alan wasn’t aware that his hand was shaking. He wasn’t aware that his breathing had sped up, and that he was swaying on the spot.

God, where was Scott? Where is he now? Everyone could have died because of Alan, he was so stupid, and now the weight of the world… the weight of the world is too much.

The glass falls from his hand. It hits the floor, shattering into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound is like an explosion, like a pin falling in silence, and Alan snaps out of the trance he had been in for so long, jerking his sightless gaze away from the vastness of the ocean and back to the land of the living.

The sound of the piano registers in his ears. Alan stares down at the floor.

The shards of broken glass are like the shards of his broken heart. They are reflecting his perceived failures, the ones that only he ever sees but are also the ones that he thinks others see.

In his mind, he is nothing in their eyes, and it hurts even _more_ because he knows he is being _stupid_ , _knows_ that he is _wrong_ …

His chest heaving, Alan brings a hand up to his mouth and staggers backwards, choking on his own quickened and panicked breathing, sobs racking his already sore throat.

There are tears streaming down his face, and only now does Alan realise the sound of the piano had stopped long ago.

Virgil is there, wrapping his strong arms around Alan’s slender frame, uttering words of comfort into Alan’s ears, trying to offer some peace to the wars that rage inside the youngest boy’s mind.

Except Virgil doesn’t know that. All he knows is that Alan was upset, Alan is having a panic attack, and that he needs to look after his little brother _right_ _now._

Alan collapses into Virgil’s arms. He lies there, blinking wildly, trying desperately to get a hold on reality. The tears that were streaming down his face so relentlessly before have slowed down and are beginning to dry, and his throat is sorer than ever.

His sobs have quietened, the shock wearing off, leaving him exhausted. More than anything, he is tired. He just wants to sleep, isn’t that enough? He doesn’t want to be awake anymore.

He finds himself drifting off, and rather dully, as if through some haze, he feels his older brother picking him up and carrying him away, upstairs, towards his room. Alan allows himself to zone out.

When Alan opens his eyes again, everything is darker and his vision is blurry. He is lying on his side in his bed, the clothes and other items having been thrown on the floor. He shrinks in on himself slightly, for he feels like he has been left alone again.

But then, Virgil never left. Virgil lays one hand on Alan’s forehead, feeling warmth radiating against the palm of his hand. Virgil sighs, and he reaches into his pocket, taking out a packet of pills, for the peacekeeper is always prepared for any situation that may happen.

He walks into the bathroom, fills a glass of water, walks back, and, carefully lifting Alan up to rest on a mountain of pillows, encourages him to take the pills. Alan does so without a complaint. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can sleep.

Alan lays down, closes his eyes. Dully, he can feel Virgil lay the blankets over him, adjust the pillows once more out of brotherly concern, and soothingly stroke his hair back, murmuring calming nonsense into his ear. It’s intelligible, but it helps.

Alan finally drifts off, and it’s only after Virgil’s heart has stopped racing in his chest and his instinctive need to protect has died down to normal that he leaves both the room and his youngest and littlest brother behind.

* * *

When Alan wakes up the next morning, the first thing he registers is that the voices in his head are no longer raging. The thoughts of doubt that plagued his mind from earlier are gone.

The second is that it is bright and sunny outside, with not a cloud in the sky.

The third is that his nose is running, but hey, he’s dealt with that before.

Lastly, but more than anything else, he feels good.


End file.
